


"Such a perfect day", a SW vignette for my OC character Nagina

by AzureAngel2



Series: Tyrian purple, a vignette collection concerning Palpatine´s niece (my OC) [4]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Babies, Babysitting, Foster Care, Parent-Child Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-22
Updated: 2017-01-22
Packaged: 2018-09-19 05:16:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9420266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AzureAngel2/pseuds/AzureAngel2
Summary: Summary: A social pedagogue is deeply touched by the sweetness of his foster-daughter. Despite her young age she proves to be a true Naboo: alert for the needs of others and keen to help wherever she can. Her offer to babysit Orson Krennic, the baby boy of the neighbours, will not be an easy task. Gifted children demand a lot of attention and stimulation.Time frame: The story takes place 51 BBY.Planet of choice: ChandrilaDisclaimer: SW is owned by George Lucas, Lucas Ltd. and now The Walt Disney Company





	

**Title:** “Such a perfect day”, a Nagina vignette

 

_The wind blows low and mournful_  
_Through the Strath of Dalnacreich_  
_Where once there lived a woman_  
_Who would a mother be_  
_For twelve long years a good man's wife_  
_but ne'er the cradle filled_  
_A mother of a changeling child from 'neath the fairy hill_  
  
_She travelled to the standing stones_  
_And crossed into the green_  
_Where all the host of elven folk_  
_were dancing there unseen_  
_Through the night she bargained_  
_with the Queen of fairies all_  
_who sent her home at dawning with a babe beneath her shawl_  
  
_How their home was joyful_  
_with a son to call their own_  
_But soon they saw the years that passed_  
_would never make him grow_  
_The fairies would not answer her_  
_The stones were dark and slept_  
_A babe was all she asked for, and their promises they'd kept_  
  
_The wind blows low and mournful_  
_Through the Strath of Dalnacreich_  
_Where once there lived a woman_  
_Who would a mother be_  
_For fifty years she rocked that babe_  
_it's said she rocks him still_  
_A mother of a changeling child from 'neath the fairy hill_

 

The sky above Chandrila is very much like the Naboo one. It is an idyllic world, remaining temperate throughout the year. Gentle winters alternate with warm summers.

 

What you like most of all is the balmgrass, the main floral species of this planet. It is soft and pleasant to the touch. Like the fur of a tokken.

 

You have enough work to keep you occupied, a big family to worry about. Yet now and then you miss your home world. You long to see animals like ikopis, kaadus and nunas. Even slug-beetles now seem interesting.

 

Three years ago you were forced into exile by a man who has grown all too powerful in politics. A person so vile and rotten that it is a miracle nobody else smelled out about his darkness. He is an unstoppable phantom menace, a visitation.

 

You lean in the doorway of the veranda. The voices of the three children on the lawn mix with the intense talk that your wife is having with the neighbour from next door.

 

It is better to leave Gita to talk with Mistress Krennic. You can be rather hot headed when it is up to a child's welfare. Some adults can be so blind when it comes to the needs of their own kids, it is infuriating.

 

Besides, somebody needs to keep an eye on the children, with that fish pond around. You know you didn't put opee sea killers or sando aqua monsters in there, but you should be on the safe side. The danger of drowning for young children is ever present in and around the home. In the end it takes only a few inches of water and a moment of inattention to drown.

 

Your eyes wander towards your two current foster boys: Kalden Metok and Tashi Pemba. The ten year old and the thirteen year old, both from the Naboo village of Keren, go along very well.

 

There had been a third boy: Tenzin Samten. The sixteen year old is not with you any more, regrettably. He had to be sent to a juvenile detention home. Little Nagina Dorje, who recently turned eight, cried out her eyes when the law came for him.

 

You cannot help but smile while you gaze at the girl, who is just now being taught how to climb a tree. She is such a sweet and devoted person, always concerned about the underdogs and those who carry a heavy lot in life. The boys are stricken by her, worship the ground she treads on. Even rough and hostile Tenzin acted like a tame shaak around her. If only she had been with him on that fateful day at the farmer market, things would not have gotten out of hand. You are sure of that.

 

It is Nagina's talent that people around her want to show her the best they can offer. Even her uncle, the man who insisted you all go live here on Chandrila.

 

You sigh.

 

It had taken your wife a quite while to explain the concept and truth of a Sith lord to you. Usually, the Force does not cross your line of work very often. You are not as esoteric as Mistress Krennic or as faithful as Nagina, and the Jedi take on the Force sensitive kids.

 

Decades ago you left Theed university with a high grade for the theory and practice of holistic education and care, also known as social pedagogics.

 

You married your campus sweetheart Gita Choedon straight away, because she was a real keeper, and wanted you too. Both of you agreed to take in foster children under your roof instead of working for an orphanage or a children's village. Lufta Shif, your former mentor, congratulated you both with your choice.

 

Youth work professionals are always needed. In a galaxy that contains so many different races and cultures from thousands of planets people that can draw together theories and concepts from related disciplines such as sociology, psychology, education, philosophy, medical sciences, and social work are almost as unmissable as they themselves believe.

 

“... is some kind of freak, isn't he?” you hear an agitated voice through the closed living-room door. “Just be honest with me. There is something wrong with Orson. He was able to sit up by himself at four-and-a-half months and stood alone at seven months. Perhaps he is a changeling. From the fairy ford on Lexrul.”

 

Mistress Krennic understands more about folklore and organic fruit farming than about her own baby boy. She underestimates the impact that her harsh words can have on him. Ten months old or not, he is in that room with her and can perfectly hear her.

 

In dismay, you shake your head.

 

Little Orson shows most of the characteristics of giftedness in infants. As a social pedagogue, who did courses on highly gifted children in their early years, you know the signs he is sending out to the rest of the universe.

 

There is his extreme alertness, he is always looking around for new sensations. You would not describe him as sulky and arrogant as his mother does.

 

She is frustrated because nothing seems to work to get him to stop fussing and crying. The key to success is to provide him with stimulation. He craves it on a very high level.

 

Your theory is further supported by the fact that he began to mimic sounds earlier than other babies.

 

Besides, little Orson tends to be exceptionally sensitive to his surroundings: sounds, textures, smells and tastes. That makes him cry vigorously in response when he considers an experience too intense. Organic fruits suffers in silence, so you can understand a baby takes some getting used to.

 

Gita explained Mistress Krennic all those things over the past hour, but a wall of fear stops her from understanding more than half of the things your wife offered for consideration. She marks the boy with an unnecessary stigmata.

 

“Do you want to have him?” your neighbour shrieks. “I cannot bare to look at him any longer. He asks too much of me. My husband is also at the end of his wits with him.”

 

Some people should not have children together. That is a given fact, which constantly gets reinforced. Sadly the kids suffer for it.

 

Social pedagogy is based on humanistic values stressing human dignity, mutual respect, trust, unconditional appreciation, and equality, to mention but a few. It is underpinned by a fundamental concept of children, young people and adults as equal human beings with rich and extraordinary potential and considers them competent, resourceful and active agents. But that takes empathy and effort, which admittedly is a time sink many would like to fill otherwise.

 

How can Mistress Krennic claim that she is tired of Orson already? He has been a part of her life for such a short time. She barely knows him!

 

“Look at those dreadful vulture eyes he has? Always staring at me in dismay. He does not even like me.”

 

A birth is supposed to be one of the happiest times of a woman’s life. For Mistress Krennic the arrival of her son seems to cause only confusion, fear and stress. All these factors hint at PPD, _postnatal depression_.

 

You know a good neurologist with an extra diploma for therapy. She has an office nearby. But you wish you could do more for Orson. He needs more stability in life.

 

Suddenly, there is a movement near your elbow and something tucks at your sleeve.

 

Nagina can sneak around so silently that you sometimes get a great fright whenever she touches you. She never dares to speak up before you grant her permission. You could beat up Sheev Palpatine for her indoctrination, if he wouldn't fry you in his arrogance. Yet the fact remains, that he would have been better off as a Jedi, teaching his niece mindtricks.

 

“Yes, Nagina?” you encourage her and kneel down until you have reached her eye level to comfort her and signal your full attention.

 

“May I babysit Orson?” she asks, her grey-green eyes hopeful.

 

The little ones always hear more than adults think. There is a lot you could say about her idea, but you put it in her hands. She needs that, and Nagina might actually be really good for Orson. “Would you really like to?” you inquire softly.

 

She nods frantically. “Very much!” she beeps.

 

“Then we had better go into the living-room and make our proposal.”

 

The anxiety in her face hurts you a bit. She is always nervous about having the full attention of other people on her.

 

You pat her head.

 

Sometimes, Nagina sleeps in her closet instead of her bed. Mechanisms from a time where she had to hide from old Cosinga Palpatine, her maternal grandfather, and the staff of Convergence. She's only has half as odd as she has right to be, considering.

 

You knock at the living-room door and the voices inside die.

 

“Yes, please?” asks Gita.

 

“Nagina has a proposal to make,” you suggest while you open your door and hold on to the right shoulder of your foster daughter.

 

“I-a, I-a!” crows Orson from his baby stroller that his mother has put him in.

At the sight of the child Nagina lightens up as well. Within a few steps she is at his side, unbuckles him and picks him up. “He needs somebody to smile at him on a daily basis,” she explains with a calmness far beyond her real age. “I am sad that you are not able to do that at present, Mistress Krennic. There will be better times, I am sure of it. The Force will bring your happiness back. And while you heal, I would like to be there for Orson.”

 

The boy in question fists around in her brown, open hair, looking like some sort of oversized mynock. Frantically, his little mouth sucks at her throat.

 

“Please let me babysit him for a couple of hours every day! He needs to know that he is loved and cared for.”

 

It is an astonishing speech, causing Mistress Krennic to glare at Nagina in anger.

 

“What a fantastic offer!” you praise the girl and squeeze her shoulder gently, while your gaze moves on to your neighbour, all the while suppressing an inopportune laugh. “Dear Kelsa, this will give you the opportunity while you have therapy sessions with Doctor Drayson, don't you think?”

 

Your wife is quick to react, backing up the good cause further. “Randall does not need to worry about the payment. We both know that Chetan has two left hands when it is up to repair the machines.”

 

You grant Gita a lopsided grin for this revelation. “Actually, the lawnmower broke only yesterday.”

 

Before you can say anything more Nagina surprises you all once more. “Orson just pooped. May I clean him?”

 

And before his mother has the chance to react to that request, the girl already does her magic trick. Quick, loving and efficient, she changes Orson's nappy on a towel in front all of you.

 

While she cleans her fingers with a liquid hand sterilizer, Gita acts as Nagina's advocate once more. “Be reasonable, Kelsa! This selfless offer will give you the quality time that you need. And I can always support my daughter.”

 

Your wife never uses the foster term for your protégées. That creates a sense of belonging, of being home.

 

Mistress Krennic nods slowly. “Perhaps you are right. Perhaps there is something wrong with me and not with Orson. Maybe I do need help.”

 

You are happy about such a good self-assessment.

 

Youth work should always be an aid for families in distress. It would have been better if Senator Palpatine would have been this insightful more than five years ago. Her past will always live on in Nagina. There is no excuse for what old Cosinga did to his grand-daughter nor for the failure of Sheev as an uncle. But she survived and is healing, and healing the world while doing so.

 

You watch Nagina fondle little Orson endearingly, see how the baby boy enjoys the attention and unlimited love.

 

This is a perfect day.

**Author's Note:**

> Sources:  
> The song “Changeling child” by Heather Dale  
> Wookieepedia – The Star Wars Wiki  
> Jedipedia, a free German Star Wars-Encyclopaedia


End file.
